Master Apprentice Archive All's Well That Ends Quick search:

All's Well That Ends

by Sar (bardless@yahoo.com)

Rating: PG

Archive: MA

Category: humour, AU (my Coruscant includes lasagna)

Spoilers: not a one

Summary: At long last, the final installment of The Bill Stories.

Disclaimer: Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon and that crowd still belong to George. Bant still belongs to the JA people. Bill, Addi, Duggan and squierfish are entirely my fault. 'Thank God We're Surrounded by Water' was written by Tom Cahill, and slightly altered for my own nefarious purposes. No one's getting paid.

Author's Note: A long time ago, on a list far, far... well, on this list, actually, I did a Very Bad Thing. I wrote a fic, and the fic turned into a series, and I wrote the second-last fic of the series, ended it with 'to be continued' and promptly dropped off the face of the earth. And for that, I apologize (particularly to Krychick!). If anyone is around who was on the list in those wacky days of the summer of '99, and still remembers Bill Palpatine, here is the conclusion of the series. I do strongly suggest that you read the first three fics before this one (it'll only take a few minutes; they're quite short, and all in the archive): It's a Twin Thing..., The Adoyables, and Some Assembly Required.

Thanks, as ever, to Kathye who kills commas and supplies mental images, and Sir Ange, defender of secondary characters.

Feedback: why not?

Warning: Gratuitous (though brief) anti-Gungan Folk singing

It wasn't the number of shelves that was the problem, Obi-Wan decided, it was how they were arranged. He eyed the layout of his small room critically. Every padawan's room came equipped with the same allotment of furniture, but since padawans were trained from an early age to be mechanically minded, it was rare to find two rooms with the same configuration. Obi-Wan had piled his belongings in the commonroom he shared with his Master, and was mentally sketching out the dimensions of his bedroom and its contents. It would be a tight fit over in the corner by the closet, but with any luck, he could make it work.

When Qui-Gon returned that evening, both the commonroom and Obi-Wan's quarters looked like a small detonater had gone off. Obi-Wan was so absorbed in piecing together what looked like the offspring of a chest of drawers and a bookcase that he didn't hear Qui-Gon trip over part of the bedframe as he entered the room.

"I didn't realize we'd been Temple-bound that long," he said, rubbing his shin and surveying the wreckage in amusement.

Obi-Wan looked up from his work, and blinked. "I beg your pardon, Master?"

Qui-Gon sat down on the desk chair, the only furniture in the room currently not in pieces. "Padawan, the last time we went this long between missions, you talked Bant into helping you wallpaper the dormrooms in the creche. _All_ of them."

"Master Yoda said we did a fine job," Obi-Wan said defensively.

"Of course he did. You used swamp green wallpaper." Qui-Gon looked around at the small room. "There are worse outlets for restlessness, I suppose." He ran a finger along the edge of a shelf, absently noting the dust. "I received a message from Senator Palpatine's office this morning," he began.

Obi-Wan had gone back to studying the pieces he was attempting to prop up. "That's strange, isn't it, for a Senator to be contacting us directly? Why didn't he go through the Council?"

"It wasn't about a mission. He wanted to invite us to the opening of Senator Palpatine Park and to thank you for all your hard work. I didn't realize you even knew him."

Qui-Gon's tone was faintly accusing, and Obi-Wan felt a small stab of guilt. He set the pieces down. "I don't know him, Master, but I did help out with the park a few weeks ago. My friend Bill, the one you met in the cafe, he lives in that neighbourhood and asked if I'd lend them a hand."

Something tightened behind Qui-Gon's eyes. "I see." He stood and carefully made his way to the door. "You would do well to meditate on the virtues of patience and stillness, Padawan. It may be quite some time before we are authorized to go on a mission again."

"Yes Master." Obi-Wan saw the troubled look flash across his master's face but decided to push his luck anyway. "And the park opening?"

"We can hardly turn down a senatorial invitation," Qui-Gon shrugged. "Besides, it will give me a chance to see what you've been up to."

"And that's all he said. I've been wandering around all day waiting for the other boot to drop."

Bant stirred her dessert and then made a face at the resulting glop. "I don't see what the big deal is. So you left the Temple quarter without permission. It's not like you were out setting bombs or selling yourself or anything."

"Yeah. I'm sure Qui-Gon finds that a comfort," Obi-Wan said flatly. "If you'd seen his face... he just looked so strange."

"Maybe there's something else bothering him. Just because your entire life revolves around him doesn't mean it's mutual."

Obi-Wan blushed. "Thanks for the reminder," he muttered. He was about to get up from the table when the chairs around them suddenly filled up with padawans.

"Bant! Obi-Wan! You guys have got to see this!" Duggan, a tall, thin boy Bant's age, sat down excitedly. He put a wad of cloth on the table, and slowly unwrapped it.

"Wow, what is that?" Bant asked when the unwrapping was finished.

Duggan slapped her hand. "Get away! I don't want your Force signature messing it up!"

"It's a rock," Obi-Wan observed.

"It's a crystalline fragment," Duggan retorted, cupping his hands around it protectively. "And it's incredible. You stare into it, and your mind focuses so clearly..."

Obi-Wan remained unimpressed. "You sound like the mystics on Geran Four, you know that."

"I do not!"

Obi-Wan raised his hands in mock defeat and leaned back in his chair. Duggan was always finding new toys. Each one he claimed had mysterious powers, and each one broke after a few days. Obi-Wan wondered, not for the first time, if Duggan actually meant gullible in the padawan's native tongue.

Duggan, meanwhile, had turned his attention to Bant. "You know that philosophy assignment we got? I wrote my entire composition last night. And Master Mith-Ro said it's the best thing I've ever written."

Obi-Wan could feel the unspoken "so there" hanging on the end of the sentence. "Well, as I don't have a magic rock," he said, getting up from the table, "I'd better be getting at my own assignments." He left the other padawans still grouped around the new toy.

Bant caught up with him a few minutes later. "Duggan told me where he bought the crystal," she began.

"It's junk, Bant! Duggan's always looking for shortcuts and they always backfire!"

"Obi-Wan, please," she caught his arm, forcing him to stop walking. "I'm this close to failing Simfordian logic. If I have to repeat it, I'll go out of my mind. I helped you last time you wanted to sneak out."

"Helped me? You nearly told Qui-Gon everything!" he hissed.

"I did not! I only told him you were in love with someone who isn't me."

"And he's been acting strangely ever since!"

Bant put her hands on her hips. "You've been complaining that he's been acting weird for months now, Kenobi. Come on, do you really want me out wandering around the merchant quarter alone?"

"Oh, alright!" Obi-Wan finally relented. "I'm not lending you any credits, though."

Bant adopted her most innocent look. "I wouldn't dream of asking."

As Obi-Wan led the way from the docking platform to the park, he could feel Qui-Gon's interest getting the better of him. His master walked slowly, looking at the colourful mix of houses and yards.

"There aren't many neighbourhoods left like this," he remarked. "Most of them were demolished to build higher towers a century ago."

Obi-Wan looked up at the skyrises that loomed over the neighbourhood on all sides. "Bill said that the complex beneath us has been in the same family for generations. Perhaps they're reluctant to change."

Qui-Gon frowned. "Nothing is immune to change, Padawan," he said, quickening his pace.

Obi-Wan hardly recognized the vacant lots that he had help clean up. Small lights had been strung up all along the perimeter, and benches and pots of flowers and greenery had been placed at irregular intervals. In the corner opposite the greenhouse children were swinging and scrambling over brightly coloured play equipment, while the adults of the neighbourhood were milling around the entire space, chatting and laughing with each other. In the middle of it all was Senator Palpatine, smiling pleasantly and shaking hands and generally working the crowd.

Qui-Gon looked momentarily puzzled.

Obi-Wan did a quick scan of the area through the Force, but didn't notice anything strange. "What is it, Master?"

Qui-Gon blinked, then regained his usual neutral expression. "From the name Senator Palpatine Park, I was expecting something... bigger. Louder. More commercial. But this is quite nice," he hastened to add.

As they entered the park, Obi-Wan managed to hear him mutter, "and they couldn't manage this on their own?" He said nothing, and took his customary place just behind his master as they went to greet the Senator.

When he saw them approach, the Senator made a point of welcoming them loudly, by name. "Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi, I'm so glad that you were able to make it to our little celebration."

Qui-Gon nodded politely. Obi-Wan stepped forward so that he was standing beside his master. "Thank you for inviting us, Senator Palpatine."

The Senator gave Obi-Wan a rather patronizing smile, and then proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the conversation. "I understand that young Padawan Kenobi helped out with the construction. How fortunate for all of us, Master Jinn, that you allowed him to interrupt his studies to contribute to our effort."

"Indeed, Senator, I have always regarded community service as an important component of Jedi training," Qui-Gon replied smoothly.

As the small talk progressed, Obi-Wan found himself mentally calculating the odds that the good Senator had ever before set foot in the neighbourhood and wondering if they were higher or lower than the odds of him ever darkening its doorstep again.

At last, it seemed their allotment of the Senator's time was up, and Obi-Wan was relieved to see a familiar face approaching. Qui-Gon was politely chatting with the Senator's press liaison, so Obi-Wan excused himself.

"Good evening, Addi," he said cheerfully.

"Ben!" he was greeted with a quick hug. "I'm so glad you could make it! Bill wasn't sure your master would let you out for the evening," she said, winking.

"He's here with me, actually. A Senatorial invitation is not a simple thing to refuse."

Addi looked smug. "That's what I said. So, am I finally going to meet this Master of yours?"

"Of course." he led Addi to where Qui-Gon was standing. "Addi, this is Master Qui-Gon. Master, this is-"

"Adella?" Qui-Gon looked thoroughly startled.

"QJ!" Addi exclaimed, smiling broadly.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Now I'm sure it's really you."

"You two know each other?"

Addi turned her attention back to Obi-Wan. "Don't tell me he's never told you the one about the Talasnian Commissioner's daughter."

Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows rise of their own accord.

Qui-Gon was blushing. "He's a bit young for that story," he demurred.

Addi gave him a strange look. "As I recall, I was his age when I lived it," she remarked dryly.

"Yes, well..."

Qui-Gon looked so uncomfortable that Addi apparently decided to take pity on him. "Obi-Wan, I've been told, should I see you, to direct you to the other side of the greenhouse."

"If I may be excused, Master?"

Distracted, Qui-Gon failed to answer until Addi favoured him with an emphatic poke in the arm. "Hmm? Oh, certainly, Obi-Wan."

"It'll give QJ and I a chance to catch up," she added.

Obi-Wan grinned as he headed across the park. QJ?

Don't even think about it, Padawan.

A buffet had been set up on the far side of the greenhouse. Obi-Wan found himself on the receiving end of many greetings and pats on the back, many from people he had never met before. He found Bill behind a long table, tending the grill.

"Kid! Good to see you!" he said, waving him over with a long spatula. He was wearing white cook's apron that read 'Hands off the buns'. "Addi's idea," he admitted ruefully when he saw Obi-Wan reading his chest. "So, how are the Jedis doing?"

"Just fine, thanks," Obi-Wan grinned, helping himself to a carrot stick. "Did you want a hand back there?"

Bill warded him off with a pair of tongs. "I wouldn't dare. The kids that helped out the day you were here can't wait to show you off. Most of the people in this neighbourhood have never seen a Jedi up close, let alone know one by name. I'm afraid you'll be overrun with new best friends by the end of the evening," he warned.

"I'll manage," Obi-Wan replied. "You've done a wonderful job here. The park looks great."

"It's not your meditation gardens with the vaulted ceilings and the waterfalls, but we like it," Bill replied, smiling modestly. He pointed to where a cluster of press were gathering around his brother. "Looks like Bob's about to do the dedication."

After a brief speech all about order and community values, the Senator unveiled the sign that read Senator Palpatine Park and declared it open. Before the applause had even died down, Obi-Wan found himself being swept into the crowd. Bill had been right. He spent the next hour or so meeting, he was sure, every relative of every person in the neighbourhood.

At last, he managed to break away, and slipped into the greenhouse to see how the pilfered Talasnian moonflowers were doing. He closed the door quietly, then paused when he saw two figures standing with their backs to him. There was a subtle perfume in the air that he recognized, but couldn't quite place.

"This is the first time they've bloomed since they were transplanted," Addi was saying. "They always remind me of my father's courtyard."

"These particular ones remind me of the upper Temple garden."

Obi-Wan reached out with the Force and very quietly opened the latch of the door behind him.

"Don't be too hard on him. He's a good lad, your Obi-Wan."

He slipped silently out the door before he could hear Qui-Gon's reply.

Outside, the light was dimming and a bonfire had been lit in the middle of the park. As people gathered to sit around it, a young man Obi-Wan recognized as Be'arno began strumming a guitar. Before long, most of the young people had joined in.

The sea, oh the sea, the wonderful sea Long may it roll between Gungan and me And everyone here should get down on one knee Thank god they live under the water...

Obi-Wan felt a hand on his shoulder. "I think that's our cue to leave," Qui-Gon said.

"Yes, Master." As they strolled out of the park, Obi-Wan noticed for the first time how relaxed Qui-Gon seemed. "And to think," he mused aloud, "all this time we could have been attending Master Zadnar's lecture on field rations for arid planets."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Obi-Wan, I won't tell if you don't."

"I told you we should have gone sooner!" Bant groaned as she and Obi-Wan trudged back to the Jedi Temple.

"Qui-Gon's come up with new exercises for me in the evenings all week. Tonight's the first spare time I've had since the park opening. And I'm not sorry."

"Two days earlier, and the store would still have been open," Bant continued, as if Obi-Wan hadn't spoken.

"They shut it down for selling narcotic rocks, Bant!"

"Please. They'd call the Force narcotic if they could figure out how to regulate it. Besides, the one Duggan bought is just some kind of focussing crystal. It's not dangerous," Bant said, gesturing dismissively. "Do you not understand how dead I am? The Logic exam is in two weeks!"

"Getting stoned is not the answer."

Bant stopped in her tracks. "That is a terrible pun. And besides..." she paused, "Hey, isn't that...?"

Obi-Wan looked around. "What?"

"I just saw Qui-Gon in that restaurant."

"I don't see him," he said, squinting.

"That's because your peripheral vision sucks. Besides, I saw him walking up the stairs to the second floor. Come on!" Bant hurried over to the restaurant and began to look for a way up.

"What are you doing?"

"Don't tell me you don't want to know what he's up to." She pointed to a small ledge just below the upper story window. "There, you can balance on that and see if he's really in there."

"This is a bad idea," Obi-Wan muttered, but half-climbed, half-levitated himself up to the ledge all the same. He peered over the edge of the window, and scanned the room. At a table near the back wall, Addi raised a glass, and Qui-Gon shook his head, then laughed and joined in the toast.

"I told you it was him," Bant said quietly, having joined him on the ledge.

"You're supposed to be keeping the lookout!" Obi-Wan hissed, not taking his eyes away from the window.

"And let you have all the fun? Besides, no one on Coruscant ever looks up anyway." She watched the pair for a moment. "I don't recognize her."

"She's an old friend of Qui-Gon's, I think." Obi-Wan made a subtle probe of his master's shields. Perched as he was on the side of a building, he figured he might as well go all the way. What he found surprised him. "He hasn't had shields this thick since the mission to-" he blushed, and ducked away from the window. "We shouldn't be spying."

Bant followed him back to the walkway. "So..." she said, rocking back and forth on her heels, "You're going to help me study for my logic exam, right?"

Obi-Wan began walking. "Sure, Bant. But not tonight, ok?"

Bant saw the look on her friend's face, and slipped a comforting arm around his waist. "No," she said quietly, "Not tonight."

A just-missed bolt stung Obi-Wan's shoulder, a reprimand for his lapse in concentration. Wincing, he brought his focus back to the remote hovering in front of him. He parried a dozen more blasts before the remote clicked off, ending the exercise. Obi-Wan powered down his lightsaber and clipped it back onto his belt, then rested his hands on his thighs, wanting to hold on to the inner silence for a moment longer.

It was no use; the questions that had been plaguing him all day crowded back into his mind. He picked up the remote and a soft cloth to wipe it down before replacing it on the shelf with the others.

Qui-Gon had announced that morning at breakfast that the Council had placed them on stand down for the time being, and since Obi-Wan was certainly old enough to be unsupervised and had demonstrated good judgement in the past, he, Qui-Gon, was inclined to allow him one free evening per week while they were at Temple, to pursue whatever projects he wished, as long they didn't involve any of the commonroom furniture. Included in the edict was permission to leave the Temple Quarter, provided he returned by curfew.

Obi-Wan hadn't known what to say - still didn't, in fact. He had alternated all day between feeling pleased at his master's opinion of his judgement and responsibility, and alarmed that for some reason, Qui-Gon wanted him out of the way.

Bant hadn't been any help at all - she had merely grinned and said something about good deeds going unpunished before rushing off to meet her hypernavigation study group.

Compounding his predicament was the fact that his first free evening loomed just after dinner, and he had no idea where to go. All of his friends were busy studying or training, and he got the distinct impression that Qui-Gon wanted him doing whatever it was he was supposed to be doing outside the Temple.

A buzzer sounded, signalling that his time in the training room was up. Shaken from his thoughts, he looked up to see the whole shelf of polished remotes winking back. Deciding that he was, in fact, losing his mind, he hung the cloth on its hook and left the room.

After stretching out dinner for as long as he could without looking suspicious, Obi-Wan made his way down to the public transit docks. An hour or so later, he was sitting on a bench in Senator Palpatine Park, feeling foolish, and miserable, and when he finally admitted it, lonely.

A small grunt of frustration interrupted his wallowing, and he looked around to discover that its source was a small girl who had managed to pull herself up onto one of the swings, only to discover that her feet didn't quite touch the ground. She was swinging her legs back and forth, unsuccessfully trying to gain some momentum.

Obi-Wan left his perch on the bench and approached the swings. "Would you like a push?"

The girl nodded shyly, so he walked behind her, pulled the swing back and let it go. Walking around to the front of the swing set, he watched her randomly push her legs in and out. In a few minutes, the swing was almost at a standstill again, and she looked up at him hopefully. Obi-Wan winked at her, and the swing began to move, seemingly all by itself. She gave a shriek of delight and spent the next 15 minutes giggling as she swung back and forth.

A window in the house overlooking the playground opened and a voice singsonged, "Nalla! Bedtime!"

Obi-Wan let the swing wind down and Nalla hopped off. "Keep practising. You'll get it eventually," he said. Nalla grinned at him, then ran home.

"Don't tell me they kicked you out of the Temple, kid."

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder to see Bill walking toward the bench and taking off a pair of gardening gloves. "Well, not permanently," he replied, then explained his predicament. "Do you think he wants me out of the way?" he finally asked.

Bill looked thoughtful. "I can't help you with that one, kid. But why not look at this as an opportunity?" He sat down next to Obi-Wan. "Take a break. Be Ben for a while, instead of Padawan Kenobi, one-man Jedi outreach program. It'll do you good."

Obi-Wan managed to look intrigued and sceptical all at the same time.

"It's your call, kid," Bill shrugged. "At least say you'll come over for dinner next week. Addi's been saying how she'd love to see you."

"I'd like that, thank you," he replied, feeling a small rush of relief at the prospect of having actual plans for his next night off.

"I'll be sure to tell her as soon as she gets home," Bill promised. "I gotta go; I'm expecting a comm tonight that I can't miss." He stood, than patted his friend on the shoulder. "Try not to think too much."

As he watched the older man walk across the park, Obi-Wan burrowed further into his cloak. "You make it sound so easy." he muttered.

"That's it?" Bant demanded. "You spent your night off sitting on a bench?"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Oh right, we wouldn't want the whole Temple to know you have no life," she replied sarcastically. The corner of the Philosophy Library where they were sitting was mostly deserted, except for a few souls obviously too deep in study to care what was going on around them. She picked up the book on the top of the stack in front of her and opened the front cover. "Ugh. This is written is High Darphaydo."

Obi-Wan looked up from his own work, amused. "You couldn't tell that from the title?"

"I was hoping it'd be in the lower dialect," she admitted.

"You can read High Darphaydo, can't you?"

"Yeah, but they use so many adjectives, it takes them pages to ever get to the point. I'm never going to get this assignment done!" With a long-suffering sigh, she began flipping through the book.

An hour or so later, Obi-Wan's concentration was broken by the sight of a large stack of books with legs approaching, and then crashing into, their table. The pile of books pitched forward, revealing a distracted Padawan Duggan.

"When did they put that table there?" he asked, scrambling to pick up the fallen books. Obi-Wan had to snatch his own out of the way before they ended up on the growing pile as well.

"Master Windu carved his name on the leg, if that's any help," Bant supplied cheerfully. She read the spines of the books Duggan was restacking. "Essu Zora? I thought you finished that assignment ages ago."

A look of almost religious zeal came over Duggan's face. "I realized last night that the piece I wrote barely scratches the surface, so I started reading, and it occurred to me that every commentator I read took it for granted that the Third Tenant of Zora's Paradox was meant to be taken metaphorically, and really, who could blame them, but if you ignore metaphor and just go for the subtleties of a literal interpretation; I mean if you go back to his earlier work it's all there, and the implications..." he finally ran out of breath, but was speaking again before Obi-Wan or Bant could interrupt. "Anyway, you can read the paper when I'm done. I have to get these checked out." He disappeared behind the books again, and wobbled off in the general direction of the exit.

When Obi-Wan looked over at Bant, she was glaring at him. "Well I hope you're happy, Master Getting-Stoned-Is-Not-The-Answer. That could have been me!"

"What? You can't possibly want to be like... like that!" he replied in disbelief, waving his arm in the direction Duggan had gone. "Bant, that's not normal!"

"Of course it's not normal! He's turned into some kind of genius!"

"Either that or a raving lunatic!"

A pointed throat clearing alerted the pair to the fact that they were yelling at each other.

"Sorry," Obi-Wan said, and got a frown from an elderly Master in reply. He leaned forward and whispered to Bant, "Shouldn't someone tell Master Mith-Ro?" He was surprised by the stare that was subsequently levelled in his direction.

"Do you remember what happened to Tiri Olatha?" She glanced at the other people in the room, then whispered, "When he ratted on a fellow Padawan, he got purnim slipped into his waterbottle."

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Is that what that was?"

"Yes!" Bant leaned back in her chair, and picked up her book. "Duggan's Master may be a bit absent-minded, but he isn't an idiot. If there's really something wrong, I'm sure he'll figure it out without our help."

Obi-Wan stared toward the exit for a moment. "I didn't know purnim could do that to a person," he said finally.

Bant shuddered. "It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen."

When Obi-Wan arrived at Bill's house, he was surprised to see only two places set.

"Addi said to tell you she's sorry she had to miss dinner," Bill said, taking a foil-covered baking dish out of the oven. "There was an emergency meeting of the local environmental protection chapter, and Addi's on the board, so she had to go. I hope lasagna's ok."

"It smells great," Obi-Wan assured him.

The meal was, if not quite up to the standards of the Rhonin Imperial Court, decidedly better than what Temple Food Services usually provided. "I didn't know you could get Nacissis mushrooms on Coruscant," Obi-Wan remarked between forkfuls of salad.

"A friend of mine figured out how to replicate the growing conditions in his back room. You can't grow them hydroponically - turns out you need actual Nacissan dirt. Who knew?" Bill said, with an exaggerated shrug.

"He must be making a fortune."

Bill winked at his young friend. "He gets by."

After they had loaded the dishes into the washer, Obi-Wan leaned back against the counter and said, "I give up. What do you do for a living?"

Bill wiped his hands on a dishtowel and hung it on the oven door. "I'm a woodworker," he said, tapping lightly on one of the cabinets.

"These are real wood?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised. He traced his hand along the edge of the cabinet door. "Wow. You made this?"

"The work's not steady, but the pay's not bad," Bill said modestly.

Obi-Wan took a closer look at the detail on the cabinets. He'd been on smaller, more isolated worlds where wood was still used for everyday construction, but on the central, populous planets, anything made from organic materials was rare - and expensive.

"I can show you my latest project, if you're interested."

"Sure!" Obi-Wan followed Bill down a short hallway and into the back yard, where a low, octagonal platform lay among piles of wooden boards and planks. A small workbench was next to the back steps, and Obi-Wan could see the schematic that lay on top of it, showing the layout and measurements for a small pavilion. Laying next to it on the bench was a piece of silver-gray wood that had been carved into an intricate pattern of leaves and vines. "May I?" he asked, and when Bill nodded, he picked up the carving.

"This is beautiful," he said, ghosting his fingers over the wood.

"It's osel. Not one of your stronger woods, but I've always loved it for carving. The supplier I usually deal with had some left over and let me have it for a song. The burca wood, now," he said, gesturing toward the platform, "I had to call in a favour for."

Obi-Wan's attention was still on the wood he held in his hands. "Qui-Gon says I have a knack for working with my hands, but I can't even imagine being able to do this."

"I can't imagine lifting a speeder with my mind, kid, so I guess we're even." Bill said dryly.

Obi-Wan lay the carving back on the bench. He looked at the schematic again, and thought of his rearranged room back at the Temple, and Qui-Gon's warning that they would be Temple-bound for the foreseeable future. He could almost feel his hands starting to itch. "I don't suppose you could use an assistant?" he asked hopefully. "Someone to help with the measuring, and hammering, and... stuff, so that you could spend more time carving?"

"The measuring and hammering and stuff, eh?" Bill looked Obi-Wan over for what felt like a very long moment. "Tell you what, kid, we'll give it a try and see how it goes. But," he said, holding up a warning hand, "you're going to learn to do this properly. That means no cutting up the wood with your lightsaber, or anything like that."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Obi-Wan assured him, imagining the charred and smoking wood fragments that would no doubt result.

Bill nodded, then bent down and picked up a small piece of sawed off burca wood. "Here, smell this," he instructed, holding it up to Obi-Wan's nose.

He obediently took a sniff. It smelled like... well, like wood, and he said so.

"Nothing else in the galaxy smells like that. You ask any woodworker; chances are it's the smell that got them hooked first." Bill began turning the piece of wood over in his hands. "I used to sneak into my grandfather's workshop just to sit in the corner and smell the sawdust and watch him working. Eventually he got tired of throwing me out and decided I might as well make myself useful."

He tossed the wood lightly to the ground. "My grandfather had a hard and fast rule: first, you have to teach the hands to think. That means no vibro tools, and no shortcuts. Think you can handle that?"

Obi-Wan grinned. "Yes, sir."

Bill ducked down and rummaged in the toolbox that was underneath the workbench. "Well then, Ben Kenobi," he said, tossing him a tape measure, "welcome to woodworking."

Two weeks later, Obi-Wan was lightly rubbing the new callouses on his hands, and wishing he was in Bill's back yard, making them worse. "So, which does he choose?"

Bant stared at the dataslate in front of her and frowned. "The cup of water."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No."

"No? What do you mean, no? You're trying to tell me that anyone in that situation wouldn't choose the water?" Bant's voice grew more shrill and she tossed the slate onto the table. "I don't understand why we have to learn this stuff when clearly, the Simfordians were certifiably insane."

"You can't look at these as real life situations," Obi-Wan explained patiently, for what felt like the hundredth time. "These are scenarios. You have to figure out what the parameters are, and deduce the solution from there. Try the next one."

Bant retrieved the slate, clutching her head with her other hand. She thought for a moment, then ventured, "the blue candle?"

"Yes!" Obi-Wan practically cheered. "Now explain to me why that's the right answer."

"Because it's the dumbest option," Bant grumbled.

Obi-Wan was in mid-sigh when the door slid open and Qui-Gon entered. He saw the pair at the table and stopped short, a decidedly guilty look on his face. "Padawan. I didn't realize you were staying in tonight."

"Bant asked me to help her study for her exam tomorrow."

"Ah." Qui-Gon shuffled uncomfortably. "And what are you studying?"

"Simfordian Logic," Bant said, screwing up her face.

"It's not going well," Obi-Wan added, causing Bant to stick out her tongue at him.

"Simfordian Logic? That's easy," Qui-Gon said, finally approaching the table and looking over Obi-Wan's dataslate, "Just eliminate the options that make any sense at all, and the one that's left over will undoubtably be correct."

"Is something wrong, Master? You seem distracted," Obi-Wan ventured, ignoring Bant's sudden fit of giggles.

"It's nothing, Padawan," replied Qui-Gon, trying to smile and failing. "Only that I'm in need of some meditation. I'll see you in the morning. Good luck with your studies, young Bant."

"Thank you, Master Qui-Gon."

"Good night, Master." Obi-Wan watched the bedroom door close, and stared at it for a long moment. "Something's going on," he said quietly.

Bant looked thoughtful. "It almost seemed like you had caught him sneaking in after curfew." Her eyes grew wide, "Do you think he was out with that woman again?"

Obi-Wan busied himself with his dataslate. "I think that where he goes is his own business." He looked up. Judging by the expression on his friend's face, Bant didn't believe that any more than he did.

"So then Duggan gets up, and does his entire presentation on the letter 'E'" Obi-Wan finished. "I guess there's such a thing as being too focussed."

"All because of a rock?" Bill asked, eyebrows raised. "Kid, sometimes I gotta worry for the fate of the galaxy."

"The healers say he should be fine in a week or so," Obi-Wan insisted, then flushed and stared at the ground for a moment. "Bant and I probably should have told his Master what was going on," he admitted.

"Probably," Bill agreed. "But, as my therapist is so fond of pointing out, sometimes you also have to let people make their own mistakes. Now, I need these ones measured the same length as those two pieces over there."

Obi-Wan picked up a couple of the lengths of wood and began measuring and sawing. The two men worked in silence, and Obi-Wan let himself focus on the feel of the wood under his hands, and the subtle differences between the smell of the freshly cut burca, and the osel that Bill was carving. It had a certain calming effect, but he was still worried. It had been three weeks - and three visits - since Bant's exam, and he still hadn't seen Addi. She had been, according to Bill, attending a seminar, visiting a sick friend, and presenting at the Annual General Meeting of the Citizens Infrastructure Association. And Bant had informed him, despite his protests that he really didn't want to know, that Qui-Gon had left the Temple on each of Obi-Wan's free nights. The pieces were slowly coming together in Obi-Wan's mind, and he didn't like what the shape they seemed to be taking.

He looked over at Bill, who was holding up his carving for closer inspection.

"How did you and Addi meet?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Bill set the wood gently on the workbench. "Her father hired me to build a pavilion in his courtyard," he replied with a grin. He wiped his forehead, and leaned back against the bench. "A week or two into the job, she started bringing me lunch. Every day. Her father was a commissioner with the high government and he was always hosting these parties for all the visiting dignitaries and political types. One of them offered me a job on his homeworld, half-way across the galaxy." He chuckled, remembering. "When I asked Addi if she'd like to come with me, she said she was already packed. Always did know her own mind."

Obi-Wan felt his heart sink. "That's a wonderful story," he managed to say.

"Have faith, kid. If it's meant to happen, it'll happen," Bill said kindly, misinterpreting the look on his young friend's face. "Now," he continued, turning his attention to the stack by the fence, "that needs to turn into a roof."

An hour or so later, Obi-Wan was perched on the top of a ladder when he felt a warning twinge in the Force by his right ear. Without taking his eye off the slats that he was fitting into place, he reached out and caught the incoming object, and was surprised when he felt it crumple in his hand. Puzzled, he secured the slats in place with a nudge of the Force and examined the would-be missile. It was a sheet of flimsy paper, folded into a rather lopsided triangle.

"We're sorry, Mr. Obi-Wan," came a voice from the other side of the garden fence. He looked into the neighbouring yard in time to see a thin boy elbow his sister. "I told you you'd throw it too hard," he accused.

"If you'd let me fold it in the first place it would have gone straight," the girl scowled back.

Obi-Wan looked at the crumple in his hand, unsure of how to fix whatever damage he had done in catching it.

"Gee, kid, you'd think you'd never seen a paper airship before."

Obi-Wan blinked. "I haven't." He slid down the ladder, and handed the airship to Bill.

"You're kidding me, right?" He flattened out the creases, adjusted the long point, and aimed it toward the children. When he threw it, the airship sailed over the fence in a gentle arc, though with a pronounced left hook.

"Thanks, Mr. Bill!"

"By the time my friends and I were their age, we were taking hyperdrive engines apart." Obi-Wan shrugged, "There are some cultures in which folding is an art form, but I don't think it would have occurred to any of us to fold a crude airship..." he trailed off, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Bill looked baffled for a moment, then shrugged. "Takes all kinds to fill the galaxy, I guess." He patted Obi-Wan on the back. "Well, Mother always did say one day we'd thank her for hiding us in the closet when the Jedi recruiters came to call."

"She didn't!"

"Every single time. Took Bob years to get over the claustrophobia. Now, did you actually nail that section of the roof down, or are you just thinking it in place?"

"Oops." Obi-Wan scrambled back up the ladder, and began hammering industriously.

"It's tradition, kid. At the end of a job, I always take the crew for a night on the town. When I have a crew, that is," Bill added, as they walked up the stairs. "This is a great restaurant. Addi discovered it one day on her way home from some meeting or other. They make the best squierfish you've ever had."

"Really," Obi-Wan had actually never had squierfish, but was preoccupied at the moment by the realization that he was standing in the same restaurant where he and Bant had seen Qui-Gon. With Addi. All week, he had been wondering if Bill suspected anything, and whether or not he should tell him what he had seen. Feeling a twisting in his stomach, he realized that under no circumstances did he want Bill to find out.

They were led to a small table near the middle of the room, and asked if they would like anything to drink. Bill ordered a draft that Obi-Wan had never heard of. Mindful of his nervous stomach, he asked for water.

"Kid, this is supposed to be a celebration. Live a little," Bill said, and then rolled his eyes when Obi-Wan changed his order to juice. "So how's your friend Bant doing?"

"She managed to pass her logic exam, and celebrated by using her lightsaber to burn a hole through her dataslate. She said she wants to be known as 'Bant the Illogical' from now on."

"I've heard worse nicknames."

Obi-Wan unfolded his napkin and began absently playing with it. "She's leaving on a mission the day after tomorrow. Two months on Mar Vawnya while they hold their elections."

Whatever Bill said in reply was lost as Obi-Wan realized with a cold stab to his stomach that he could feel Qui-Gon's Force signature in the room. Bill was busy looking through the appetizers, so he pretended to drop his napkin on the floor, and took a quick look around. His fears were confirmed when he saw Qui-Gon holding out a chair for Addi to sit down. Their table was near the wall behind him, and when Bill looked up from his menu, he would have a clear view. He shored up his shields, then carefully reached out with the Force.

All at once, a large potted plant came skidding to a halt behind Obi-Wan's chair, blocking Bill's line of sight and startling the waiter who was bringing their drinks. He eyed the plant disapprovingly, but merely set the glasses down and asked if they were ready to order.

When their meals arrived, Bill cleared his throat and raised his glass. "Here's to a job well done," he said, clinking his glass with Obi-Wan's.

"Thank you for letting me help," he replied.

"You're the one who put in the work," Bill pointed out. "You're a good man, Ben Kenobi, Jedi cloak or no. Don't believe anyone who tells you any different."

Obi-Wan covered his embarrassment at the praise by taking another sip of his juice.

The squierfish really was quite good, but Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to enjoy it. He was too busy worrying, wondering what was going on at the table by the wall, and frantically promising the Force that he wouldn't be jealous of whoever Qui-Gon decided to be with as long as he fell for anyone other than Addi.

"Are you feeling alright?" Bill finally asked. When Obi-Wan replied that he was fine, he shook his head. "You're not looking so good, kid. There's a balcony just through those doors there. Why don't you get some fresh air?"

Unable to think up a good excuse to stay at the table, Obi-Wan made his way to the balcony doors. When he glanced around the room, he noticed the table by the wall was empty, and sighed with relief.

He stepped out onto the balcony, and froze. Leaning against the rail was the figure of one Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi Master, who turned around when he heard the doors opening.

"Obi-Wan!" he said, sounding as surprised as Obi-Wan felt.

"Good evening, Master," Obi-Wan heard himself saying. "What brings you here?"

"I heard it's the best squierfish place in town." Qui-Gon said awkwardly.

Obi-Wan felt his stomach sink even further. Qui-Gon had made a career of talking his way though whatever the galaxy chose to throw at him. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his Master at a loss for words.

The balcony doors had been left standing open, and both men gratefully let themselves be distracted by the sight of a disgruntled waiter dragging the large potted plant back to its rightful place. Once the plant was gone, they had a clear view of the table where Bill sat. Addi was sitting with him, and Obi-Wan watched in shocked fascination as the pair clinked their glasses, then leaned in and kissed each other.

For the first time in months, his mind went totally blank.

"Oh, Obi-Wan, I'm sorry."

He looked at his master in astonishment. "But you and Addi..."

Qui-Gon looked confused. "Adella and I knew each other many years ago. She invited me here tonight for a chance to catch up on old times. I honestly didn't know that you and Bill were going to be here."

Obi-Wan tried to pull his jumbled thoughts into some kind of order and failed. Had Qui-Gon really sounded apologetic? "Then what was all that free time really about?" he finally demanded.

Qui-Gon flushed, and turned toward the balcony rail, gripping it tightly with his hands. "I was trying to give you space to make your own mistakes," he said quietly.

The sought-for order suddenly crystallized in Obi-Wan's mind. "You've been in therapy!"

"How did you-"

"All this time, every week... Why?"

"Master Yoda made me go, once, and I thought that maybe it would help if I went back." Qui-Gon explained, trying to sound casual.

"Help with what?" Obi-Wan knew he was pushing, and probably being rude, but months of polite distance had only left him confused, and he would go insane if he had to live that way anymore. Something had to give.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, then spoke quietly, staring at the building across the street. "When Bant told me you were in love with someone, I swore to myself I wouldn't be jealous. But I thought it would be another padawan, or one of the younger knights, not someone, well... older."

Obi-Wan stared at his master, who was resolutely not staring back at him. "You thought... Bill?" He began to laugh, out of relief, out of the absurdity of it all, out of hysterics, he realized, when he couldn't seem to stop laughing.

"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon grabbed his arms to stop him from shaking. "Obi-Wan, look at me. Just breathe."

He did as he was told, keeping his eyes fixed on his Master's. How long had it been, he wondered, since he had really looked at Qui-Gon? Really looked, and not turned away after a glance, for fear of what he might not see? How long had he missed seeing this, right there in front of him?

"Did it help?" he finally asked. "When Master Yoda sent you to therapy."

Qui-Gon let go of his arms. "Not really."

Obi-Wan smiled. "Me either." He saw the understanding dawn on Qui-Gon's face. "I did meet Bill in the waiting room, though. He thinks Master Yoda should mind his own business."

"Does he?" Qui-Gon leaned against the rail in relief. "Obi-Wan, I think you and I need to go home and have a long talk."

Just then, a small, pale something drifted across the balcony and landed at Obi-Wan's feet. When he bent to pick it up, he saw that it was a paper airship, with writing scrawled across it. He laughed, and showed it to Qui-Gon.

"Dear Ben and QJ;
Shut up, and kiss him already.
Love, A&B"

And that, my friends, is exactly what they did.

The End.